In Secret
by Stella-Siha
Summary: My take on a romance between Lieutenant James Vega and Commander Gaïa Shepard. The first chapter is the end of the story, I will tell their story from the beginning in the following chapters. Rated M for a romantically written sex scene in chapter one, some fluff/smut in later chapters and a few F-words here and there. W.I.P.
1. Between the Shadow and the Soul

**A/N: I just revisited this first chapter and oh boy, did it needed it! When I first wrote it, it was out of the blue and in all honesty, I had no idea where I was going back then. However now, th rest of the story is coming more naturally and I feel like my writing is much better than when I wrote this chapter. Remember, this is the end of the story, the following chapter will tell James and Shepard story from her incarceration to this point.  
Also, for this Chapter One, I willingly did not give details about Shepard's appearance so that people could picture their own Shep.  
I hope you enjoy and please, R&R, I would gladly love to hear any constructive comments about my story (you're also more than welcomed to simply tell me you like it...or not!), to improve my writing skills.  
**

**Disclaimer: Mass Effect belongs to Bioware, I am just playing with their universe.**

* * *

James was gazing at Shepard, tenderly. They had been laying on the bed, face to face, for a long while now and he still could not get over how peaceful she looked at this moment. She was half asleep, needing a nap after the rough mission on Thessia.

When Anderson had granted him the opportunity to become her guard on earth, he had discovered the woman behind the legendary Commander.

Since she had gotten onboard the Normandy, Shepard had been bearing the fate of humanity in her hands. War was, slowly but surely, taking its toll on her. The dark circles under her eyes, the tension of her jaw, and the emptiness that could be seen in her eyes were all apparent signs of deep exhaustion. Shepard was aware she had to be the strong Commander before allowing herself to be a woman -especially in front of her crew.

Although, it was in these particular moments of peace, that in his presence James knew she could finally allow herself some rest. Shepard had once told him that she felt like she could only be her real self around him, for she knew he would never judge her and would only take her as she came. She despised showing weakness, more than anything, and he knew that too well. Yet, it had always occurred to him that he had easily gotten under her skin, even if she would never admit it.

The Normandy was heading to the Cerberus base and the crew knew it was only a matter of time until they finally got to Earth, in the heart of the fight. They also knew that this could be their last moment together. James tried to fight off this unbearable feeling, but in fact accomplished quite the opposite.

He reminisced about their "prisoner to guard" relationship and how it had evolved into something between friendship and love, then to this inevitable state of everlasting feeling of love. They could no longer ignore the attraction between them and after months of flirting, they gave into the temptation of being a couple. The circumstances made it everything, but easy to start this relationship normally. The Reapers threat was always on their mind, as well as keeping their privacy separated from the battlefield.

James knew she was a strong soldier but seeing her fight against loads of Cerberus troopers, Brutes, Atlas, Banshees, it always took him quite some self-control not to remind her that sure, Cerberus had rebuilt her and she was certainly the only being that had been back from the dead, yet she wasn't invincible, even if she liked to think so. She was strong, reckless but most of all, wise. She was branded by the years spent in the Marine Corps, avoiding the bittersweet world outside like the plague. There was no place for doubt and feelings there; she had found her place, belonging in this world of order, action and effectiveness. Every drop of sweat, blood, and silent tears shed at night had led her to the top of the ladder, the highest branch of the Special Forces and she was proud to be among the best N7 soldiers in the alliance.

James did not know much about Shepard's past. She kept it at arm's length, in the shadow. He never felt as if she was trying to hide something, more like avoiding some unpleasant memories. He always thought of asking her about it but never found the courage to do so for he knew there were enough to worry about now.

In this moment though, he was almost tempted to ask her, to tell her that she could get rid of all that was haunting her, he could take it all away for her, like he had done before during her incarcetation _**'And it didn't get quite so well'**_he thought. Instead, when she opened her eyes, he saw how relaxed she looked and decided to keep it for later. "Hey you." he said, cupping her face with his hand, and slowly brushing her cheek with his thumb.

"Hmmm, hey stranger" she whispered, leaning her cheek in his hand and bringing her own arm on his side, closer to her.

He placed soft kisses up her neck, jaw, then on her nose and finally on her lips. Shepard immediately reacted to the gesture and brought her body as close to his as possible. When he felt her starting to tug at his shirt, he said:  
"Calm down lady, you're supposed to sleep, not get all over me!"  
"Stop being so careful with me", she complained, now kissing the outline of the tattoo on his neck, "you know I want it as much as you do."

None of them were willing to break the serenity of this moment by talking about the Reapers and what was to come once on Earth.

His resolve melted when she started nibbling at his ear, his arms wrapping around her on their own. She let his hands wander down her back, slowing taking off her shirt. She was wearing a black bra with dark pink lace at the bottom. He knew it all too well…So he sarcastically said "Commander, I do not think this underwear is regulation"

"And who's going to complain about that, soldier? Plus, should I remind you that this is my favorite bra because of…"

"I know exactly why this is your favorite bra."

He unclasped it, and she extended her arms so he could completely take it off. She let out a long breath and smiled. James still felt a point of guilt for not letting her get the rest she needed. When she saw him hesitate, she placed her hands on both sides of his face, gently kissing his forehead. Her smile was trying to tell him that everything was okay but her eyes said otherwise.

He told himself that this privileged time together might be the only way to make her forget everything for a short while. James then muttered to her "You were wearing it that one time, when we started dating. You had bought it in the morning and were secretly hoping I would make a move on you so I could see it; I didn't let you down and did take advantage of these lovely breasts of yours." he said, as he was tracing his hands up and down her body. "We ended up talking that night, especially about this poem you did not know back then… _**"No te amo como si fueras rosa de sal, topacio," **_His arms moved lower, sliding in the hem of her panties, Shepard bending her knees so he could take them all the way down, her hot and soft skin now bare against him. _**"O flecha de claveles que propagan el fuego…"**_

Her eyes, so empty and lost, suddenly lit up with a hidden flame that sends fire through his body, settling in his groin. In no time, she was straddling his hips and rubbing her hot, silky core against him. He grabbed her hips, making her moan. As she was doing quick work of his zipper, forcing his pants and boxers down his hips, she bent down, her heavy breasts rubbing against is sweaty chest. James thought he was about to lose it when she wrapped her hands around his bulging erection. She slowly started pumping all the way down, increasing the pace until he decided to stop the torture. He grabbed her hand, bringing it to his mouth and placed a gentle kiss on it. He wanted to give her as much attention, love and pleasure as she was giving him.

He brought himself in a sitting position, Shepard still straddling him. He nuzzled his head in her hair, enjoying the smell of her, caressing her back all the while pushing her against the bed. Shepard had wrapped her arms around his neck and did not want to let go of his warmth.

When she was finally on her back, he kissed his way down her body. She was magnificent, not in the common sense of it. She was covered with scars; battlefield wounds and of course, Cerberus' work had left some traces as well. James had been with what most people would call flawless and perfect women but to him, Shepard embodied flawlessness and perfection. The marks on her body were just the reminder that she was alive and real. Those marks were who she really was, a woman who was giving her life to protect the Galaxy; and she needed comfort too, something people tended to forget; so where others would see ugliness, he saw the wholeness of her and one of the many reasons why he loved her.

When James arrived near her center, he looked at her swollen lips, parted, anticipating and yearning for what was to come. She looked at him through half-closed eyes, conveying with no words all the desire she held for him. This sent waves of pleasure through his body, reminding him of his throbbing erection and the fact that he wanted her, so badly.

He finally slid his hands under her thighs, slowly moving his face closer to her core, his lips leaving wet kisses all over her skin, until they found her velvety lips. He found her pulsing nub of nerves and placed gentle kisses on it, until he heard her beg for more. With a smile on his lips, he finally started sucking and licking, her hips moving in rhythm with his mouth. He undid his right hand from under her thigh and brought two fingers inside her, deliberately moving them slowly. "James…" Shepard said in a whisper, "Please… "

He knew what she was asking for. He placed one last open mouthed kiss on her nub, making her gasp. When he felt her hands grasping his shoulders, urging him to lay on top of her, the intensity of his desire almost reached the point of no return and in no time, her mouth was on his, sliding her tongue past his teeth, tasting him. Suddenly, Shepard took hold of him, placing him at her entrance. Then in one swift movement, he was filling her.

James closed his eyes, thinking that there were no words to how good it felt to be at one with her, her warmth around him. It was a connection he had never experienced before. When he finally looked at her, Shepard had her eyes wide open and a noticeable smile of contentment on her face. He smiled in return, enjoying the moment;, reluctantly thinking that it might be their last.

Her hands came resting on his hips before grasping onto his buttocks, asking him for harder, faster movements. The tension in his abdomen increased and he realized he was about to release. That is when he felt her swift under him, allowing a better angle, her soft walls finally clenching around him, as her orgasm hit her, loud moans filling the room. Shepard was still gripping his back, her nails digging in the flesh, her back raised from the bed so that she was flushed against him; that was his undoing. In one last push, James came in an explosion of pleasure, filling her, letting her own warmth and tightness overwhelm him.

They stayed like this for a while, his head resting on her chest, her hands caressing both his hair and back. James thought that this was where he belonged. _**"Te amo como se aman ciertas cosas oscuras…"**_ James whispered in her ear.  
_**"…in secret, between the shadow and the soul" **_Shepard said, before falling asleep in his embrace.

* * *

**A/N: The poem quoted is _Sonnet XVII_ by Pablo Neruda. (I totally recommend reading the whole poem, it's wonderful) Here are the lines said by James (in Spanish) in English:**  
**"I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,**  
**or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.**  
**I love you as certain dark things are to be loved**  
**In secret, between the shadow and the soul"**


	2. In the Light, over my Earth

_A/N: Hi everyone! Here is a new chapter that __**had**__ to get out of my head. It is a prequel to Chapter One and if I keep writing the ideas I have in mind, we should go back in time. I renamed the story too, the title was too long in my opinion and the second half of it is finally the title of Chapter one!  
Reviews and constructive criticism are very welcomed.  
Also, I am looking for a beta-reader so, anyone who is interested, please PM me!_

_Disclaimer: Mass Effect belongs to Bioware. I do not own the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story._

* * *

_Alliance headquarters, Earth._

James was anxious. Anderson was about to introduce him to Commander Shepard. All of his usual confidence seemed to have gone missing and he only remembered feeling that way as a kid, when his Madre used to yell at him for useless things, like, having a bad grade or hanging out with the crooked kids of the neighborhood. _Great, _he thought, _I haven't met her yet and I'm already shitting my pants. Come on, pendejo, get a hold of yourself, there is no place for personal feelings here. _

When Anderson opened the door of the cell given to Shepard, they found her standing still, in front of the widow, watching as the sun was setting down.

"I hadn't seen the sun in more years than I like to count. It's beautiful, Anderson…" she trailed off as she turned around. "Who's this?" she asked, a sudden hesitation in the eyes.

For one second there, as she was turning around, James had been able to get a glimpse of her face, unguarded. She looked so much different than on the videos and photos he had seen of her. Maybe it was the armor, the guns; or maybe it was the fact that she knew how to stand straight, eyes never leaving the horizon, pride and fearlessness written all over her features. Here, between these four walls, with no witnesses, at least, not until she noticed his presence, she had simply looked_ human_.

This had given back a bit of his lost confidence for he realized, then, that the famous Commander Shepard, savior of the Citadel, wasn't the cold, threatening woman displayed to the public…That was until he noticed the spark of suspicion in her eyes, the warning in her voice when she had asked Anderson about him. His blood froze, stopping the warm feeling of confidence finally spreading throughout his body.

"Shepard, this is Lieutenant James Vega. He'll be your bodyguard as of now." She remained silence, both Anderson and Vega expecting her to complain about the sudden news, aware that having a bodyguard might be too much to take. They were surprised to hear her calm, composed answer.

"Well, since I don't have my word to say in all of this, I might as well see the bright side of the situation and enjoy the fact that I will, at least, be allowed to see someone during my incarceration."

She walked up to them, her head high, in spite of the feelings of anger, frustration and powerlessness that were certainly crushing her. She let nothing disclosed.

"Lieutenant, nice to meet you." she held out her hand, letting it hang between them both. It took quite a few second for James to react. He was amazed at how she went back and forth between being the proud Commander she had to be and the woman she just was. He was taken aback, creating this awkward moment during which all fell silent, Shepard's hand hanging in the air, James scrutinizing her face. When Anderson discreetly cleared his throat and kicked him in the arm with his elbow, James came back to reality and mumbled

"Sorry, ma'am. The pleasure is mine." He shook her hand clumsily. He saw her smile at his awkwardness, immediately making him feel more comfortable.

Anderson, seeing as though the situation had been dealt with much more easily than expected, and also noticing that Shepard was_ accepting_ the lieutenant, decided it was time for him to leave. He reminded Vega of the importance of his tasks and not to, by any means, let anyone see Shepard without his consent. He finally turned to Shepard.

"Kid, I know this is tough and know that I am doing everything I can to get you out of here as soon as possible."

"I know, I am grateful for everything you've been doing since the beginning, for believing in me and supporting me when everyone was letting me down."

"I know who you truly are, Shepard. I will make sure the Council and committee remember what you've been doing for years to keep this Galaxy safe. For God's sake, you didn't destroy the Alpha Relay for the fun of it!" He could not help but rise his voice at the absurdity of Shepard's incarceration.

"Anderson, the Reapers are the real threat, you have to tell them that or we're lost. The Council, the committee, they need to believe me. It can't be too late already" she said, her eyes darkening, all trace of hope leaving her.

"Wait, wait, wait, Shepard!" Anderson said, placing his hands on her shoulders, as if to shake her back into reality, "We're not done yet, it's just the beginning! You have to be patient and have faith in me. I'm going to talk to them. They haven't been on the battlefield; none of them have seen what you've seen. I'll convince them, kid. Stay strong. I'll come back tomorrow afternoon. Until then, get to know the Lieutenant", he slightly turned to the James, who was waiting near the door, standing up straight, arms crossed behind his back, his face closed, "he's a talented soldier and a great man."

"Why him specifically though?" she asked, looking over Anderson's shoulder, taking a peek at James.

"Because he's one hell of a soldier and I'll admit he reminds me of you: tough, devoted, fearless but mostly, reckless -"

From this distance, James could hear what they were saying and could not help but listen. He had seen them turn around to look at him. _Damn, Anderson, you're one hell of a man! _He slightly shook his head, a small smile blossoming on his lips.

Anderson had believed in him, found him in the darkest hole of the Galaxy, and given him a second chance at life. He was decided not to waste it.

Hearing the captain's words had him wondering: was he really of the same caliber as Shepard? He sure was everything that Anderson had enumerated, yet, he still didn't feel like he belonged to her league. She had saved the Citadel from destruction; she had kept fighting against the Reapers even when pretty much no one believed her. Then she had died and been brought back to life by the enemy, Cerberus. Again, even when the Alliance rejected her, she kept fighting. She kept going even when all odds were against her, when her own world had fallen apart.

That's where _he_ had failed. He had given up after Fehl… _See, pendejo, you're not half as good as her__. _He was frowning , he was decided to change and he might as well learn from the best damn soldier in the Alliance.

When his mind drifted back to reality, Anderson was leaving, Shepard telling him with quite some enthusiasm, "Kick some ass for me, Sir!" He gave him a sharp salute before opening the door for him.

With one last hesitation, Anderson told him, in a whisper "Take care of her, Vega. She'll need strength; I know you can give her that."

James saw the seriousness in his eyes, and replied with the same determination he had heard in the Captain's words "Yes, Sir. You have my word".

When the door closed behind Anderson, James turned around and saw Shepard, back over the window, watching the last rays of suns illuminating Vancouver. It was as if she had forgotten that he was even here, still.

She looked _magnificent_. The light was accentuating her face and he found himself drawn to her. Until that very moment, he had only let himself see the soldier, not the woman. Now he could notice the curve of her hips, how her uniform fitted every one of her womanly features. Her delicate skin was glowing in the sun and he could not stop his eyes from roaming all over her body_… If you don't stop now, you're going to make a fool of yourself, idiota._With quite some effort, he tore his eyes away from her luscious body and slowly walked up to her, breaking the silence.

"So, uh, Commander, is there anything you need? -"

"You're not supposed to call me that, Vega. Shepard will do." Her words had been hard, her eyes never leaving the view out the window, "Books, if you could get me some, it would help time pass by. Also, if that's possible, anything that would allow me to stay in shape and, you know, get rid of the frustration."

She turned her head finally, offering him a small smile, silently thanking him for immediately understanding that, what she needed most, was to make her incarceration, if not fun, at least, bearable.  
"Yes, ma'am. I'll make a request tomorrow." He simply replied not knowing what else to say. Her face was beautiful, her green eyes glowing in the sunlight. He noticed the shadow lingering in the back of her iris; they said the eyes are the mirror or the soul and if that was true, her soul was not at peace. Instead of scrutinizing her, he chose to look at everything but her face; he didn't want her to think he was a creepy pervert.

James still did not know what tone to adopt with her. She was on the defensive, he could tell, yet she seemed to have this hidden side, the one she kept locked up when in command or around any other soldier, that demanded to be put in the light. He was a perfect stranger to her; he should not be surprised of the way she was acting toward him.

He remembered how she had looked when she was talking with Anderson, and, for some inexplicable reasons, he wanted her to feel as comfortable with him as she had been with the captain. He just wanted to break her barriers, remind her that there were still people believing in her and the ideal she represented. _These bastards on Omega were right, you're a Shepard lover. Maybe letting her know that would make her feel more on trust._

"Permission to speak freely, ma'am?"

She raised an inquiring eyebrow, surprised by the formality of the question."Sure, go ahead"

"I may appear as a bother to you or another one of these uptight, insensitive soldiers following the book. I sure as hell will never be one of the latter. Your incarceration, sadly, is, my second chance at life. I should be the one in the brig right now, not you. You did the right thing Shepard. Don't ever doubt that. I've had my fair share of events I would erase and do all over again if I could. -"

He was slowing down, trying to find the right words. She was facing him now, arms crossed under her chest, as if to protect her, carefully listening. Her face was questioning, urging him to continue.

"What I am trying to say here is that you should see me as an ally. I am on your side Shepard, I believe in you. I believe you when you say the Reapers are coming. I've seen what the Collectors can do; I know we should rather be preparing for their coming instead of keeping you locked up for doing the right thing. However, none of us can do anything about this situation. I will do what I have been asked to do by Anderson and if you want me around, I'll stay. If you want me guarding you from outside, I'll do that; but keep the cold commander for the loco politicians. You have nothing to prove here, just be yourself and I'll do the same. I'll do whatever I can do to make this sensitive moment as easy as possible for you."

He was looking straight into her beautiful eyes, waiting for an answer. _Hold on, don't back off now James. _

After what seemed like an eternity, she gave him a sly smile, her eyes never leaving his either, "I think I like you, Vega."

Relief flooded all over his body and he tried to hide the joy that was invading him but didn't quite succeed.

"You can call me James, ma'am.", a wide smile of victory on his face.

* * *

His smile was contagious and she could not help but giggle a little, which was _very_ unlike her.

She really meant what she had said about liking him. He seemed to be easy-going and also damn easy on the eye. His little speech had reinforced the feeling she had seen when she had first looked him in the eyes; there was something deep about him, hidden behind the impressive tattoos and the mass of muscles. She could tell he was seared with scars, the kind that cannot be seen but can be _felt_by those wounded too.

When Anderson had said that James reminded him of her, she had immediately understood why. Anderson knew she would let her guard down with someone like him around. It would take time, of coursebut if she allowed herself to be realistic, she would admit how tired she was. _Tired does not even quite describe how I feel right now__, _she thought. She was above exhausted; the last months had just been too much and it now felt like it had all been for nothing. These bastards of the Council could never understand her and what the Normandy crew had seen. At least, now, she could get some rest.

She needed strength, both mental and physic, for the committee hearing. If there was one last chance to stop the Reapers in time, she would not let it pass her by. As for James, maybe he could help her in this process, if only she let him. _Stop acting like Commander fucking Shepard. He is not your subordinate here. He is not a threat._

She realized, right then, that it had been years since she had allowed herself to reveal who she really was. There were still the memories, buried deep, waking her up at night, ceaselessly opening the wounds she had tried to heal, without success; even_ death _itself had not stopped this. It had made her angry at first but in fact, that's what had convinced her that she was not an IV, or a fake Commander Gaïa Shepard. Anger had remained since then and there had been no place for the _human _side of her.

She wondered if James had been able to _feel_ all of it. His haunted, hazel eyes had seemed to hit her core. Now, she found herself wanting to know more about this man who was nothing more than a stranger a few minutes ago.

Yet, years of being distant, tough, cold even, keeping everyone at arms' length had led her to this cocoon of self-preservation she was trapped in. Deep down, she _refused_ to be helped, she didn't want people to care about her; worse, she didn't want to find herself caring for others.

She had _cared_ for her crew in a very specific way, always keeping them far enough so not to get attached. In a very different way too, she _cared _for Humanity and still wanted to fight for them.

She was no hero, she hated more than anything to be seen as one, but she would give the little to no strength she had left in her, for them. It's not the glory that interested her, not the attention, nor the worship. It's the action, the ruthlessness of war, its inhumanity even, that kept her fighting for a better world than the one she had lived in. She could face the blood, the horror; as long as she knew others would not have to.

When Shepard found herself drifted back to reality for the second time in the day, she knew she needed to be alone now: she also knew she was not ready to talk nor was she ready to let someone _in_.

"I think I could use some sleep now, James." She calmly said. He didn't seem surprised by her silently spoken request for him to leave. She was glad her voice and tone had carried her simple wish to be alone, not, in any way, a rejection of his presence. She had always been good at keeping her emotions in check; that's something she was proud of.

"Sure, Shepard. I'll be in the corridor. Dinner should arrive by_ 20:00. _Remember, if you need anything I'll be just outside the door." He gave her a half smile, starting to move toward the door.

"Thank you. See you tomorrow, lieutenant."

"Aye, aye, ma'am."

On his way back to the door, Shepard was by his side. She could not help but _ogle_ him. He definitely was well built, even for a soldier. He was slightly taller than her, her eyes at level with his strong jaw. The 5 o'clock shadow beard he wore made her wonder how it would feel against the sensitive skin of her neck. She slightly blushed at the_ misplaced_ thought and how easily her mind had gotten used to the man.

Her eyes followed their journey up his face, noticing the scar on his right side. She made a reminder to herself to ask him about how he had gotten it. She had never been big on scars but she had to admit it looked quite distracting, attracting even, on him.

His sensual lips, his serious gaze, they started a fire in the pit of her stomach that she had not felt in _ages_. _Come on, Gaïa, you're not a horny teenage girl. Grow up!_

She had slowed her pace and was now a step behind him. The view of his muscular rear and broad shoulders, tight under his Alliance uniform did not help the fire that was now igniting her. She had first felt a bit guilty at dismissing him so quickly but now, she knew she had been right.

When they arrived at the door, James turned around abruptly. "You know, about the books, it certainly will take a few days until you get a hand on them so I was thinking I could bring you a book of mine. It's a collection of Pablo Neruda's poems -" He was scratching the back of his head now; looking a bit embarrassed which Shepard found totally adorable. She sure would have loved to listen to him, babbling some more, looking absolutely cute in his confusion, but she decided against it, the side of her who did not want company still in the back of her head.  
"I would love to, James, thank you. I do not know any of his poems so it'll be something knew which is what I need right now."  
"Well, hm, ok ma'am. I'll bring it along tomorrow." He seemed almost _happy_ that she had accepted.

The realization made her heart splutter for a second. She knew what it _meant_. He was taking at heart the mission Anderson had given him and by extension, he wanted to _care _about her and make her feel at ease. The thought scared her, making her stomach clench at the idea of being close to someone again.

Shepard was now alone in her cell, wishing she could avoid thinking until the committee hearing. All alone was where she belonged the most, yet, she usually had a lot going on around her, affairs to be taken of, tactics for future missions to be thought over.

Never, in years, had she been given the opportunity to just sit and think. She would have to face this now, the memories already rising from the shadow, all the interrogations about being dead eating away at her.

_Yea, this incarceration really isn't going to be a party of fun._

* * *

_A/N: The title of this chapter are words from the poem "Finale" by Pablo Neruda.  
I am still not sure what the next chapters will be made of! I was thinking of maybe giving more details about Shepard's past. Of course, the evolution of her relationship with James should be a big focus of the story. Anyway, hope you liked this chapter _


	3. I shall walk with frost and fire

**A/N: The complete title of this chapter is "I shall walk with frost and fire and death and snow".**  
**I still have no beta, it was just quickly read by a friend of mine who said it was overall good (remember, English is not my mother tongue!). Please, if you notice any mistakes or things that make no sense, I beg you to message me and let me know about them.**  
**And as always, kind words, reviews and constructive criticism are more than welcome! They inspire me and make my day. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Mass Effect belongs to Bioware, I'm only playing with their universe. I do not own the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.**

* * *

_Explosions. Screams. Heartbeats._

_'Calm down', she thinks, 'everything's gonna be ok.'_

_There is a storm outside, swirls of dust making it hard to see even at a short distance. She tries to stand up but the broken bones and exhaustion are almost too much to bear. She knows she has to get out of here and find them –alive-before it's too late. She is too determined and angry at herself to notice that she is bleeding –badly- and that there is almost nothing left of her armor. Right at this moment, the only thing she knows is that she has to find them. 'They can't die, not again.'_

_As she finally escapes the shelter she is in, she can't breathe and is unable to move. Every part of her body is numb, 'I ca…can't move' she realizes with terror. She is frozen into place. Panic is taking over her. 'What the hell is going on here?' she wants to scream, but no sounds escape her mouth. Unable to breathe still, she is suffocating. In the distance, she catches a sight of two moving figures, waving at her. They are howling with pain. 'You need to move, Gaïa, NOW!'_

_In a second, she is able to run as if none of the numbness and broken bones had ever existed. 'Adrenaline?' she asks herself, incredulously. There is no time to waste on thinking and so she runs, as quickly as she can._

_They are only 30 feet away now; stupor and shock stop her in her tracks as she recognizes them. 'Mom? Dad? Wha...what are they doing here?' A wave of queasiness makes her fall to her feet when she sees the pills of flesh, blood and what's left of Alliance armors at their feet. Tears stream down her face and when she finds the strength to open her eyes again, she realizes her parents are dead, too, under her eyes._

_Sorrow is like a hand of iron, crushing her insides with such a force that she collapses to the ground, unable to move anymore. She wants to scream, to tell them to wake up, to not die on her; but her voice remains utterly inaudible._

_In her agony, she hears the sweet, little voice of her mom telling her to get up and save her ass. The pain is too much to take. 'I can't save them anymore', she thinks, 'It's too late…again'._  
_As she holds her head up one last time, the Tresher Maw appears in all its glory and as it falls down again, takes away all that was left, except for her inert figure. She can feel herself dying; air leaving her lungs and never coming back in. Her heartbeat is slowing._

_'No one is going to save you, Gaïa. No one is going to save you' She doesn't want to hear that voice anymore, she wants to get up and call for help._

_'You don't deserve it; you failed them' the voice now says. 'No one is going to save you, You don't deserve it, you fai-…'_

* * *

Shepard suddenly awoke, covered with sweat. "_There you go again, bastard." _she angrily whispered through gritted teeth, gripping the bed sheets, slowly coming back to her senses.

She relived the same horror every night. During the hunt for Saren and then her time with Cerberus, she had never had too much troubles dealing with these recurring nightmares. They were blurry for the most part, never as clear or as real as they had been since the beginning of her incarceration.

They were the shattered mirror of her life, each sharp shards for each of her haunting _failures_: Mindoir, Akuze, Virmire, the crash of the Normandy, the Bahak system; Death was all around her, inside her and Shepard, as hard as she had tried, had never been able to forget and overcome It.

Then, there had been her own death. _Painful, lonely, frightening_, so much similar to the idea she already had of it. Yet, when they had landed on Alchera, Gaïa had somehow found some peace.

She remembered when the Alliance had forced her into seeing a shrink after Mindoir, and how he had started their first appointment by asking her to give three adjectives to describe what she had just lived. _Painful, awful_ and _hard _had been her answer.

From then on, her teenage mind had been charmed by the idea of using only 3 simple words to describe even the worse things in life. It gave her a feeling of control over them, also a way to make them human, as inhuman and disgusting as they could be.

That's how she had realized that Alchera was everything but painful, ugly and hard; it was _peaceful, silent _and _beautiful_. She had felt like she belonged there. Now, if she was given the possibility to choose where to be buried, she would want it right there.

Dying had left her with many questions and fear still, and it had helped her to see the wreckage of the Normandy, but the faces of her former crew members -who had died _because of _her, she kept reminding herself- were still haunting her.

Shepard was sitting on her bed, the sheets covering her legs. She was staring into space, motionless, lost in her thoughts. The first light of the day could be seen over Vancouver but to her, at that moment, everything was dark.

'_How stupid you were to think that joining the Alliance would make you strong, cold and ruthless_', she was thinking. She shook her head in disbelieve to her own naivety and covered her face with her hands. When she opened her eyes, a ray of sunlight was slowly appearing but she didn't want the day to start. The fate of Galaxy was weighting on her shoulders. '_I never chose it'_, she told herself.

Hopelessness had slowly been sneaking in every pore of her body and today it was at its climax. Shepard had always remained strong through all these years. Life had been a succession of tidal waves, leaving no place for calm wavelets to achieve her shore. Who had she been to believe she could _let go _of her own past? She was angry now.

_'I just want some fucking peace, is that too much to ask?' _she shouted.

She had never been much of a believer, religion bringing her doubts and uncertainty, and no comfort at all. Yet, she had looked up to the sky, as if aiming at some force or entity, expecting the heavens to shine down an answer on her. Too long kept tears were now streaming down her face. Gaïa knew she would never get an answer but it had felt good and relieving to word this frustration out and get it off her chest.

_"The universe is a dark place. I'm trying to make it brighter before I die."_The words of Thane suddenly came back to her mind and their meaning sunk in. What if it was what she was meant to do? What if Thane had been the one holding the answer all this time?

Even if she had never really paid a close attention to it, Thane's wisdom had influenced her. In her moments of doubts, he had always been the one to have the right word.

_Siha…_ She certainly didn't deserve this nickname. _Fierce in wrath, a tenacious protector. _That's exactly what she had tried to achieve when joining the Alliance but she felt like she had miserably failed. Was it too late to try and embody the warrior angel?

Her breathing was coming back to normal and tears had dried on her cheeks. She was being a coward and she knew it. Shepard also felt like these down times were much needed, especially when there was no one around.

"_We must carry the weight of our decisions" _Thane had said_. 'I didn't know what I would be up against when I joined the Alliance but it was my decision to make. I chose to accept to be in command of the Normandy and fly right to Eden Prime. I chose to work for Cerberus and I chose to destroy the Mass Relay…'_

Thinking about all the decisions she had took made her open her eyes. They all felt _right._Having people die under her command, killing innocent lives in order to save more people, being shown as a hero when all she could feel was like a killer? These were _wrong_; these were the price to pay.

At that moment, she wished she could simply do both the _right_ thing and what had drawn her into joining the Alliance: save people and spare them the pain of events such as Akuze, if only she would be the one to kill the bad guys and get the dirty work done. This contract had seemed _right _and it still did. Now she knew that being a soldier, especially at higher ranks, was all about doing what was _right _and not what you_ loved_.

And so, she would keep doing it, just like she had done it before.

* * *

When James arrived that morning, he found Shepard at her usual place, facing the window and watching the sky. He smiled to himself at how they had gotten used to each other's presence.

She had been quite cold at first, with glimpses here and there of the warm heart she kept locked up. Unluckily for her, James had always been a patient man_. 'No mujer can resist El Vega!'_he proudly praised himself, not that it was totally accurate with Shepard. She still had reservations and as hard as he had tried, she didn't look like she was willing to actually create a bond with him. Yet, he could be stubborn too, and he knew better than to let her down, in a time when she needed someone to talk to. He was there for her and he would let her know.

He remained silent for a while, looking at her from the distance, with tenderness. He was happy, even honored, to be the one to support her and the one willing to give everything he had to make her incarceration livable.

She had slowly opened to him, like a flower, talking more and more every day. Of course, she never talked about private affairs and he would never dare ask her about what it had felt like to be brought back to life, to survive Akuze, all these things that made her so mysterious and kept her on a higher level than _other _people.

He didn't want to rush her, or even worse, lose her trust and watch the beautiful sunflower she was, close again. At the same time, he himself kept his own past in check and was careful not to mention Fehl or his shady teenage years.

'_She knows' _he had thought someday. James was convinced that she was aware that there was darkness in his mind as well, but it took two to play a game and none of them was willing to lose this one.

The one thing he _knew _was that she had gone from the impressive Commander Shepard to simply Gaïa Shepard, the woman behind the legend. He was still admiring the first and, even if it was still an unknown world for him, falling –_hard_, for the latter. One thing was for sure, both made his heart pound and his stomach feel all weird. She was everything and _more _than he could have ever imagined.

James had always been a ladies' man, never caring to know what was under the surface. He was long gone before any of his conquest would awake and that had been just fine until Shepard. Now, all he cared about was seeing her beautiful smile, her eyes twinkle, the peacefulness invade her as she was reading the books he got a hand on for her. She made him feel confident, always looking out for more. He wanted to be a better man for her.

_'She is not interested in you in that way, James'_ he reminded himself. His heart shuddered at the idea that he would certainly never be good enough for a woman like her. Nonetheless, she had never mentioned a man waiting for her but then again, she had always kept their discussions to a _certain _level.

He would take what she was willing to give though. He enjoyed nothing more than hearing about her war stories or just her opinions on the outside world news he gave her. Talks had been the base of their relationship, he would make sure to keep it that way.

James decided to take the last few steps leading to Shepard. She was lost in thoughts, oblivious of his present it seemed. What a surprise when she suddenly turned around, clenched fists midway between them and challenge written all over her face. _"Damn, what I would not do to see this crooked smile and provoking eyes again…"_, he quickly told himself, smiling, before getting in a defensive position. He nodded, unspoken sign letting her know that he knew what she was up to and he was _more _than ready for her.

"So you wanna dance _already_, Shep?" he said, challenging her in return. They had gotten used to dancing every once in a while so she could get rid of the tension and frustration and, of course, James was never against working out and getting_ sweaty _with Shepard.

"I'm not here to slow-dance James…" she said, all the while sending a left hook right on his ribs. He hadn't seen it coming and felt like a rookie, "because it looks to me like you're a little slow today." The smirk on her face and the mock in her voice were a direct provocation; James could not ignore it.

Seeing as though she was still unfocused from her own little victory, he feigned a right hook, keeping all her attention on his arms and fists, but he knew better. In a fast, perfect movement, his right leg was hooked behind her knee, his arms, resting on her waist, and in one swift movement, Shepard was on her butt, James holding her from falling on her back, on the hard floor. James was kneeling besides her and let go of her when she was finally stably sat on the floor. They were just having fun in those moments; by no mean they were trying to seriously hit each other, he always made sure of that. These sessions taught him how to stay in control of his own strength, which is tended to lake sometimes… especially when he remembered the bar fight that had happened on Omega.

"I'll think twice before I talk, next time" Shepard said, admitting her defeat, still a little out of breath. That was enough for James to get all cocky.

"Oh come on, are you, not only surrendering, but capitulating as well?" he said… And that's when it hit him: the dark circles under her puffy, unfocused eyes, her pale face and the fact that she had given up so easily; she definitely looked like someone who hadn't slept and worse, '_had she cried?'_he wondered.

He knew she had restless nights, she had hinted at it a few times, but of course, had never given any more explanations. He was convinced that she was prone to nightmares and so many times he had wanted to ask her what kind of hell she was seeing in her sleep, tell her that she could share her burden with him; more than that, tell her that _talking_ could make the nightmares go away._ 'You'll have to grow some balls and ask her someday, for her own sake' _he took note in his head, knowing that now was not the right moment. So instead he asked "Are you alright?", a hint of sincere worry in his voice.

"I'm fine, James," she calmly replied, accepting the hand he was offering her, so that she could stand next to him, "I just had a bad night, that's all, but I'm…fine, really." She was nodding, almost trying to convince herself that what she was saying sounded _right_. She looked up at him and smiled peacefully.

That smile she was giving him was honest and James knew it. Yet, there was still a lingering shadow in the back of her eyes. Right then, he had a crisis of conscience. _'Should I ask her about that night? Should I remain silent and act as if there was absolutely nothing to worry about?'_, because that was the heart of the problem: James was _worried_.

And he would rather ask for forgiveness than beg for pardon. He was about to ask her what had her so preoccupied when, out of the blue, she started talking again.

"You know, I was thinking about Thane this morning. He had this wise way of approaching life that made me feel better" she said, still smiling.

"Who's Thane?" James had asked, forgetting all of his previous thoughts, trying to sound as unconcerned as possible, despise the urging feeling to know who the hell that man was.

"Come on, Vega, I told you about him! He's the drell I worked with." Shepard said with surprise in her voice before adding, thoughtfully "Ok, I may have gone with Krios. I guess I just realized that he was of a great support during my time with Cerberus." There was wonder and admiration in her voice, something he didn't fail to notice. Shepard then turned around, hugging herself, looking out the window, certainly her way to make him understand that she would not say any more about it.

Jealousy hit James' heart. Now he remembered what Shepard had told about him, especially about Thane's sniper skills that she had qualified as the best she had ever seen. He had learned about all of her crew members and, in a way, he felt like he actually_knew _them. Nevertheless, Vega could not help but wonder _'Is there something she did not tell me about him? Do I know her as much as I like to think?'_

James did not know what else to say and he thanked whatever god there might be out there when he heard the sound of an in-coming message on his Omni-tool. _'At least, I'll leave her with the feeling that she is alright'_, he thought, selfishly wishing _he_was the reason why she was alright.

When she turned back around, at the sound of his Omnitool, she looked startled for a second and James simply said "I gotta go."

She nodded and he nodded in return, adding an as cheerful as possible, "I'll be back on later, Shep. See ya!"

* * *

When James came back later on that day, he wore a grim expression on his face. Shepard knew right away that something was up. She took a deep breath and asked "What's wrong, James?"

She could see he was struggling, hanging his head low which was unlike him. He remained silent for a while, only worsening the knot in her stomach. Since the morning, she had felt a lot better than the past few weeks but she was still dealing with conflicting feelings.

James was still silent. Shepard's patience was wearing out; not only his silence was driving her crazy but the way he was acting too – unlike _himself_ and unlike a soldier talking to a _Commander_. So, she repeated her question, each word sharply pronounced, unconsciously slipping into the Commander's role with a brilliant easiness "_Lieutenant_, I asked you a question, what is wrong?"

James head snapped and he knew he should talk now… or never, seeing the expression on her face. Her cold, distant eyes were back, the tenseness of her face and her posture; those were of Commander fucking Shepard.

Almost naturally, under the sudden blow of pressure for acting unprofessionally, he straightened up, his stare right into hers and said "The Alliance stripped you off your rank."

He didn't have to say any more. The look on her face gave away the flow of emotions she was fighting against. He could see she was struggling to keep the Commander face intact.

When she turned around, he thought that maybe she was finally letting go of it all, but that was until she just went to sit on the sofa, her eyes looking right at the wall opposite to him.

It was her turn to remain silent. He had expected her to swear, to get angry - to _**cry **_even – but instead, she was just standing there, looking so vulnerable and small. He wished he could just listen to his heart and join her, on the sofa, gently take her hand in his and tell her that everything will be fine, _in time_.

His whole body was itching to give her comfort, to show her that there were no reasons to pretend that everything was alright. _'Do something, pendejo, don't stand here looking at her as if she was some kind of circus attraction.'_

The words were out of his mouth before he could think them over and _make sure _they would be _right_. "Fuck, Shepard, at least say something… I don't even have an idea of how you must be feel-"

Visibly, that was her undoing. She bounced off the sofa she was sitting on and, before James could even react, she was right in front of him, her index finger on his chest, anger written all over her face. "Who do you think you are, Vega?" she snapped at him, her eyes never leaving his. "These bastards took away my ship, grounded me, put me under arrest and now, they strip me off my rank and you want me to _talk _about it, just like I would talk about rainbows and unicorns?"

He hated that she was using him to get the pain off her chest but he could take it, he _would _take it, for her. At his own risk, he grabbed her wrists because he didn't want her to do something she would regret later; she didn't need her physical strength right now, she just needed to word her emotions out. A mischievous smile was crossing his face when he said "There we go, Shep. That's what I wanted to hear! It ain't no good keeping things bottled up like that…"

She was flushed with anger. "Shut the fuck up! You're not my shrink Vega! I don't need you and your good manners. I'm not looking for a prince in shining armor…"

That had hurt. She was being an ass and he was that close to let her down, go to a bar and drink his own anger and frustration away. Maybe even find a _chiquita_ to forget her… _'If that's even possible now' _James bitterly thought, frowning.

Her wide eyes were still staring at him but anger was being put behind, leaving room for sadness. She was breaking down and he was glad he had held on because he knew that tonight, she would not deal with these emotions alone.

As he had released her wrists, she started patting at his chest, almost like a child. Emotions were making her voice unclear -really soft, and so when she started talking again, she was stammering. "I'm a big girl in case you haven't noticed! I can handle myself. I don't need your comfort." Her voice was sounding rougher all of a sudden, her fist hitting him harder and harder. Full anger was back in force and she seemed determined to make him pay for trying to open her up to him.

The fire in James was starting to eat away at him, not from having her so close –closer than ever before, her smell intoxicating his soul, the memory of the soft skin of her wrists under his hands never leave him, he was sure of that, her eyes – so deep, so desperate yet so cold- but from his own anger and pain at the words she was giving him. _'You don't deserve that, James. Don't let her ruin you…' _He had no idea how to stop her though, besides kissing her which did not exactly seem like the right thing to do. _'It only works in movies'_, the thought making him smile a little inside. He wasn't sure how long he could let Shepard use him as a punching ball.

She paused for a second, as if to catch her breath and almost making him hope that the anger was wearing out... That was until she talked again. "You know what my friend Samara once said? _'I am a ruined vessel of sorrow and regret, but I am free.'_ This is who I am, James. I'm no sparkles and fun. I'm not looking for someone to fix me even though I am _broken_. You know what happened on Akuze and I have no doubt you heard of Mindoir as well, not to mention my death." She stumbled backward, tittering, her head and shoulders low, signs that the wave of emotions was finally over? James inwardly hoped.

She raised her head, looking into space "Let me tell you one thing, Vega. I never came back from the _dead_. I'm here to do the right thing and stop the Reapers but believe me, if I was given the choice, I would want my body to be lying in the cold on Alchera and my soul to be on the ocean shore with Kalihira. So don't you dare thinking that I need you, because I don't."

Her words pierced his soul and seared a new wound. _'So much for thinking she would want you Jimmy.'_

* * *

Shepard felt dizzy. This had been too much and she had been unable to control her emotions. She _hated_ James for trying again and again to make her feel _alive_. She_ hated_ him for digging a passage in the high, thick walls she had spent so many years building. She _hated_ him for making her feel helpless and needy –for him, mostly, but also for herself. She missed the hopeful kid she had once been, she missed the enthusiastic little girl who had chosen to join the Alliance, not yet fully conscious of the open wound left by Mindoir that would never heal. '_Truth is, these are the exact reasons why I like him' _she allowed herself to think._  
_  
When she _dared_ raising her head and confront the look in his eyes, she saw a mix of hurt, bitter and angry feelings –certainly a reflect of her own. However, she had been the one to hurt him, make him angry and feel bitter toward her; _she_ was to blame. He had given her the opportunity to get the tension of the past few weeks off her chest and she has chosen to hurt him, as badly as she was hurt.

"_My feelings have always come after my duty. The same is true of you, Shepard." _Samara's words echoed in her head. She had been right at that time. There were no more friendship, no more feelings when she was on the battlefield; plain and simple determination and concentration were left. She had never been the kind of higher rank to blend with the soldiers under her direct command… _'Well, that was until my assignment on the Normandy' _she admitted.

It's this detachment, this coldness toward people that had led her to the top of the ladder and gave her full effectiveness. She knew how to keep a straight face and take the punches without a murmur. She had been judged often by her fellow soldiers, for being so strong and determined. Why did people always seem to see these traits as faults instead of qualities? That, she would never understand.

Tonight, she had lost it all. Never had she allowed herself to react that way, not even in private. When she had spent the night with Kaidan, before Ilos, afterwards they had kept it on a professional level, never letting it influence their judgment once on the ground. When she had seen him on Horizon, she had taken his bitter words, without cracking up, until she was in security in the closeness of her quarters.

_'How come have I been able to stay professional after getting intimate with Alenko, who was under my direct command, but I find myself unable to resist the urge to act like a stubborn and mean child in front of Vega?' _Shepard was incredulous toward her own behavior even if she _knew _that if she dug up a little, she would find her answer.

Shepard could not even dare imagine what James must have been thinking of her at that moment. She felt devastated for hurting the only person she cared for. _'Yes, you care for him, Gaïa. Open your eyes and stop denying it…', _huffing at the thought.

What had first started as a simple attraction, due to sexual tension she had told herself, had slowly turned into something deeper and, let's face it, _scary_. It's the little things that had gave away what she was trying so hard to hide…and kill…and hush up; his honest smile when he entered her cell every morning, the longing in his eyes when his shift was over –shifts that had become longer and longer she had noticed, never asking him why for she was too happy to have him for herself; and then the weight of his absence until his arrival in the morning.

He genuinely seemed interested in knowing her and that, added to these other feelings, had convinced her to back off. Most people would have used it at their advantage, but she had long convinced herself that she was not "most people". There were already hundreds of lockets on her heart – so heavy, _'but it cannot hurt to add one, right?_' she had hesitantly told herself.

She had seemed to find the happy medium after that, staying friendly toward him but always keeping him distant, never showing off any of the thoughts she had in mind and worse, fighting off the urge to touch him sometimes. It had made it even harder no to talk to him, about herself, about _everything_.

And she could see _it_, too, the look in his eyes, shifty, his face tense, uncomfortable, when they started talking about missions in which they had been involved. There was danger written all over his face in these moments; there was a line that should not be crossed without his consent and there was a pain she could recognize among thousands, that was lying there, hiding, too afraid to be disclosed. Their wounded souls were playing the same game it seems, haunting them but never letting them scream the pain away.

Instead of wording how much thankful she was to have him here, how much of a better woman he made her feel, she had hurled at him. Shepard was conscious she had treated him like dirt and did not know how to make up for it _'If there is even a way to…' _she thought, so desperate at the idea of losing him. She was still in the fit of adrenaline and passion and the more she was trying to think now, the blurrier her thoughts were. _'I just want to comfort him, to tell him I am sorry but how can I ever talk after what I just said?'_Shepard was still standing in front of James, distant, her head crooked. He hadn't moved, staggered by what had just happened. So, she swallowed her pride, and almost imperceptibly said "James, I…I…am sorry…"

Shepard didn't dare saying anymore when he snapped at her to shut up, calmly but firmly. _'You lost him, Gaïa.' _was what her numb mind discerned from the mess she had started. _'It's too late…again' _this last thought like an electroshock. _'It can't be too late, not again, NOT AGAIN!' _Shepard was so angry now –at herself, for wasting it all over _again_, for taking him for granted and hoping he would stay around and wait for her, like an obedient puppy kept on a leash.

In one last impulse, shaky and unsure -but trusting herself- responding to an inner instinct that had saved her ass more than once on the battlefield, she walked up to him, backed him off against the wall, her hands on his hard yet soft chest. She looked up and searched for his eyes, desperately, when she saw that he was trying to avoid hers. "Please, James, listen to me", her voice a plea, her hands moving up to his face, forcing him to look at her. He was reluctant at first but when they finally made contact, there was still anger but also wonder in them.

"I'm… sorry…. I regret what I said." His breath was hot on her face, his musky scent driving her crazy. Her hands went down his shoulders, back on his chest, her fingers tracing lazy patterns over his shirt. She had _longed_ so much to do it. "I…I… need you, James, _much_ more than I like to admit." She couldn't stand his hard stare and ended up looking down. Yet, nothing seemed to be able to stop her from talking now that she had started. "I never meant to hurt you. Trust me when I say I regret and wish I could erase what I said."

James' chest was getting more tensed under Shepard's hands but he remained silent, giving her no clue as to how he was feeling. At least he seemed willing to listen to her. She looked up at him through her eyelashes and saw that his distant stare was conflicted –angry still. _'Maybe I am just making a fool out of myself' _she thought, almost giving up. However, her dad had taught her to finish what she had started and at that memory, her will rekindled and Shepard told James, clumsily, what she had kept bottled up inside. The tension, the emotions were too heavy and tears started to run down her face when she said "I miss you when you're gone, I think of you when I can't sleep at night and…" she got even closer to him, her chest flushed against his.

All of a sudden, she felt his hands on the curve of her waist and he seemed as surprised as her by his own gesture. She continued, the feel of him putting her heart and body on fire. Her hands pressed against his chest, her lips dangerously close to his neck for she did not dare looking at him again. She was losing her track of thoughts and what got out of her mouth was not quite what she had planned to say… "I want nothing more than to taste your lips on mine, to feel your hands on my skin", Shepard was almost purring, lost in her own behavior, sudden desire emboldening her. "… to trace all of your tattoos with my fingers. The thought of your five-o'clock shadow rubbing against my skin drives me craz-"

In one swift movement, James, gently but firmly, two feelings he seemed to master, pushed her away and added, in a confused voice "Shepard, I can'… I can't. I have to go." And just like that, he was gone.

Never being alone in her cell had felt more crushing, more oppressing. She collapsed to the floor, drained out. _'You deserve it, Shepard'_ She told herself, again and again. _'It's too late to have him back…'_

When Shepard finally crawled into bed, all she could think about was James. Neither Thane's wisdom nor Samara's peacefulness brought her comfort that night. However, her dream, did not fail to remind her of what she had done tonight. So, almost natural, the deathly voice she had left when waking up, kept going as if it had never stopped _'No one is going to save you, you don't deserve it, you failed him. He is not going to save you, you don't deserve him, you failed him…'_

* * *

**A/N: The title of this chapter is a line of the poem _The Dead Woman_ by my dearly beloved Pablo Neruda  
For the Spanish words:  
**

**mujer: woman****pendejo: moron/dork/dickhead****chiquita: young girl**


	4. My heart moves from cold to fire

_Shorter chapter than usual, with only James POV because I truly felt like it stands song quoted in this chapter is **In My Veins** by Andrew Belle (I will put a link on my profile for those interested in listening to it). The song had been in the back of my mind since the day I started writing the chapter and was of a great inspiration, so it is naturally that I included it in the story.  
The title of the chapter is a line from **Sonnet LXVI **_by Pablo Neruda.

_Thanks for the continuous support readers, it keeps me motivated and always bring a huge smile on my face. Please, read and review, I love knowing what you guys think and of course, constructive criticism is appreciated and welcomed._

_Disclaimer: Mass Effect belongs to Bioware, I'm only playing with their universe. I do not own the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story._

* * *

When James burst out of Shepard's cell, there was a lot of confusion as to what had just happened and the unreality of such a panel of emotions. How was it possible to go from anger to a feeling of defeat, then back to anger and finally lust; sometimes even all at once? He didn't even have the answer himself.

His body was carrying him along the cold hallways of the Alliance headquarters, his mind too busy to think straight. The world around James was a blurry mess of uncertainty and annoyance. He wanted to punch anyone who would dare approach him. His fists and jaw were clenched as he was walking fast, aimlessly, thinking over and over again about how Shepard had been a real bitch to him. Exiting the building in no time, James froze for a second, angrily wondering _'Who the hell does she think she is?'_The question only fueled his rage and resumed his inwardly ranting, wandering in the streets of Vancouver.

When James achieved the destination his body had led him to, he burst the door open with his fist and strode across the place, right to the bar. The Green Orb was a classy pub near the Alliance Headquarters, so it was no surprise to meet only soldiers there. It was more than fine for James who did not know any of them and who only wanted the company of Miss Tequila for the evening. Before his mind could get a chance to get a grip, James bent over the counter and ordered, with the best charming tone he could come with, a full bottle of his favorite alcohol to the young –hot in other circumstances, waitress. Charming women was an art for Vega and as he had expected, she came back in no time with a shot glass and a crystal clear Tequila that he could not wait to taste, or more accurately, to _down _as fast as possible.

"There, for you, soldier" She purred and winked at him, placing the bottle and glass in front of him. Vega studied her for a moment, thinking that only six months ago, he would have used the occasion to flirt with a nice girl like her and who knows, maybe even bring her home. She had long blond hair cascading down her slender shoulders. Her curvy and feminine body, as well as her sparkly and friendly sky blue eyes, and that sly smile of hers would have conquered a younger, _ante-Shepard _James. In other words, she was a babe and James felt a pang at the loss of his past frivolity, light-heartedness.

With a furrowed brow, James kept studying her inquiringly and came to the conclusion that as attractive as she was, there was no warmth lying behind her eyes: her smile did not seem to hold a mystery. She, nor any other woman, would ever be Shepard and that would lead him to his loss.

Feeling his mood shift, James quickly reached for the bottle and mumbled a not so friendly "Gracias" and poured himself a shot that he downed, closely followed by another, letting the strong alcohol take over his senses. He winced as the liquid burned down his throat but it was such a welcomed effect, the physical pain allowing him to forget about Shepard and the hard, angry words she had thrown at him. He hated himself for giving her so much of himself. With his glass half way to his mouth, James paused and angrily thought _'You're so desperate for her. Truth is, you're a piece of shit without her.'_, before swallowing its pouring himself a third, fourth shot, James body was finally accustoming to the warmth, buzzing of alcohol, a forbidden, almost forgotten, pleasure he only indulged himself when keeping your head high and taking the high road was of no help, no comfort.

With each gulp, James' heart was beating faster, his body growing hotter, more relaxed. He took in a sharp breath through his nose, bringing a hand across his forehead, up through his hair and down to scratch his neck. He kept his heavy head hung low then, eyes closed, his hand randomly rubbing against his forehead, as the memories were coming back in full force.

He groaned when the blurry image of Shepard appeared in his intoxicated mind, pale face and puffy eyes, pleading him to listen; one more shot to tear her face away. Now it was the feel of the forever imprint of her small hands on his chest that came back to haunt him, the sweet Tequila unable to cast the spell she had put on him, away. Then there was the anger again because damn it, this was unfair and for once in his life, Vega felt like he _deserved _better than this.

His hand clenched in a fist and he hit the counter, trying to find some kind of release. Totally indifferent to the other clients, James didn't even bother to look around and see the expected face of ignorant people looking down on him for his attitude that he knew inappropriate and unlike him; but right now, he fucking didn't care.

James left his seat at the counter, bottle and glass carefully in hand, and looked for a place where he could drink like a drunkard, away from prying eyes. Noticing a dark corner in the back of the pub, James dragged himself to the unoccupied banquette. He slumped there and examined the room from this new point of view: it was an old fashion place of Irish inspiration, with its tables, chairs and counter made out of ebony, ancient wood. The windows were colorfully stained, like in an old shrine or something. This place had cachet, the feeling enhanced by the old jukebox in a corner, playing songs from the early 21th century, to whoever was willing to listen to these oldies.

There was not many clients, being as though it was quite early, and James was glad for the current silence surrounding him. However, the numbness in his mind and body was slowly vanishing, letting place to a soberness that he was not ready to deal with yet. The little voice in his head was telling him _'A few more drinks, James. It'll ease the pain away.'_ and that sounded fine by him, so he went to take another swing of his drink, not wanting to see the lingering image of the redhead that inhabited him again; but another voice piped up in the back of his mind _'Bullshit. That's your dad talking'_. James dropped the bottle at the sound of that.

"Tha-that's the voice of tío Emilio." James whispered to himself, shock written all over his face. The man who had been watching over him when his scum-sucking padre should have been the one to do so, still managed to find his way right to James' heart and he wanted nothing more than to slap himself from not learning from his uncle's wisdom_. 'Way to go, pendejo'_ he cursed himself, wordlessly blaming himself for _still _being unable to break free from the grip of his father.

The sight of the almost empty bottle in front of him, sticky glass in hand, made him feel dizzy with self-disgust. Who was he trying to fool there? At the first sight of an obstacle, he still ran away from it instead of facing it, cowardly giving in to the easy temptation of alcohol, this inherited Achilles' heel running through his veins. The sneaky tequila was making it hard to think straight, his body so numb that James did not know if the pangs of pain in his skull were real or not.

The outside world was slowly penetrating his silence, laughter and noises blending in a distant buzzing that made James' head spin. _'You deserve it'_ he blamed himself. Hands behind his head, he leaned against the leather banquette and closed his eyes, lost and confused. _'What are you trying to prove?' _he questioned himself. Deep down, he did not want to come face to face with his own demons, especially_ not_ with the one that looked dead ringer like his teenager self. The truth was lying there, there in the fact that James had reacted like the scared kid that he had been with his careless father when Shepard had showed him rejection. The realization struck him and he gritted his teeth _'Dios! I am twenty-six and I am still acting like a fucking insecure kid' _Not the easiest thing to admit for a bulky marine like Vega.

James train of thoughts was interrupted when the _painful_ sounds of giggles pierced through his bubble. Opening one eye, James noticed a group of young recruits, mostly girls, gathered around the jukebox, arguing over which play-list to choose. James dreaded some kind of very loud music that would force him to leave the place for he was sure his hyper sensitive hearing and alcohol soaked brain would be unable to endure it. He was not done with his introspection and was determined to stay there until he was drained. He winced and held his breath in anticipation when one of the girls hit the "Play" button, but took a long breathe out when a soft acoustic guitar starting playing, along with a man singing.

Seeing a waitress nearby, James motioned to her and ordered a big glass of water, knowing that clarity of mind was much needed now. He took a look at his surroundings, the growing crowd slowly taking possessions of the empty tables around him. Thankfully for James, the hubbub was still distant, the lulling sound escaping the jukebox the only sound captivating him.

_"Everything will change, nothing stays the same…"_said the man singing, the grim reality rising to the surface. There was no doubt that things would change after what had happened between him and Shepard, but the real question was _'What am I going to do of this change?'_His glass of water in hand, James gulped the fresh liquid, its purity washing the remains of anger away.

_"Everything is dark, it's more than you can take, but you catch a glimpse of sunlight, shining, shining down on your face."_ _…"_ were the meaningful words thrown at James. He suspiciously took a peek at the jukebox and smiled inwardly _'Is that thing reading my mind or what?'_ His lighter mood did not last long, as James tried to face his facts; truth was, his life had been a succession of darkness, first with the death of his beloved Madre which had left him like a bird fallen from its nest, a feral youth. Then, there had been the little schemes of his father and his descent into hell and alcohol; James had been the one to suffer from his dad's inability to deal with what life was throwing at him. With disgust, James groaned in the back of his throat because let's be honest, he felt like a coward loser, just like his father. Fehl prime, certainly the darkest place of all, had been his biggest failure and he still found himself unable to face it: the mission had broken the new man he had put so much effort into becoming; it had crushed him, as if to warn him that he did not belong with the heroes. Finally, there was Shepard and all the expectations she had brought along. Vega was staring down at his glass of water, lost in thoughts, as he felt a growing lump in his throat; Shepard was the warm ray of sunshine in his life and the scene that had happened this afternoon was like a big stormy cloud on his horizon. _'She fucked everything up' _he admitted. For once, he was not responsible for the messy situation he was in and yet, instead of dealing with it, James had run to the nearest bar with the purpose of drinking the reality away. His blood was boiling with self-disgust.

_"Oh you're in my veins and I cannot get you out. Oh you're all I taste, the night inside of my mouth. Oh, you run away, 'cause I am not what you found."_ Still half-listening to the song in the background, his heart ached at the idea of losing her but maybe that was what would be better for the both of them. Obviously, he had her deep under his skin _'but she made it clear she does not need you' _James bitterly reminded himself. More than anything, he did not want to become this bitter, angry person that he had taken the role of today. Putting an end to their mutual destruction by quitting his job as her guard and save the day, that sounded like the relevant choice. His heart though, it longed for her and urged him to give her a second chance.

Tracing random patterns on the wood table, James felt like he was going nowhere; he was offered two roads and right now, he was unable to choose which one to take. _'Never give up'_ was his uncle's advice echoing in the back of his mind. If anyone could understand Shepard, it was him. They were alike, on a human level; never would he dare compare himself to her, battlefield-wise; If only she let him, he would stay for her, as his guard, as his friend, as his… _lover_,the thought of the latter igniting his soul with the desire to fight for it but also reminding that his attraction and interest for Shepard were the reason why he had tried to get sloshed in the first place, why he suffered so much right now.

She had hit him in the right spot and God, did he despise her for being so mean, so low. The alcohol still running through his veins, James had a hard time keeping his temper but he was willing the fit of rage away, the hazy flashbacks of what had happened only a few hours back, troubling him. Her words, the ones full of hope, of unspoken attraction, resounded in his head _"I want nothing more than to taste your lips on mine, to feel your hands on my skin, trace all of your tattoos with my fingers. The thought of your five-o'clock shadow rubbing against my skin drives me crazy." _James could not help but groan, reveling in this glimpse of hope she had given him.

Suddenly, all he wanted were answers and a talk, a real face to face conversation with Shepard. Doubts and hours spent dreaming up would do him no good. He craved to go back to her cell but the sober, wise part of him knew that inconsideration and precipitation led to mistakes. They both needed to sleep on the events of the day.

Getting up from his seat, James slowly made his way out of the pub, wondering about Shepard and knowing that tomorrow could never come soon enough. James felt lighter than when he had entered the pub, in the gutter. Out of pain, he had lost it and tried to punish himself by drinking but really, he could have easily taken his anger out on someone. So when the cold wind of Vancouver hit James, he realized that out of pain, Shepard had lost it too and he had happened to be the one there to take the blame. _'So yeah" he told himself, 'I'm not going to let yourself self-destruct and do nothing about it_, Shepard.'

* * *

_Spanish vocabulary (I hope I got them all!)_  
_Tío – uncle_  
_Pendejo – idiot, dumbass_  
_Gracias - Thank you_  
_Dios – Oh God_  
_Padre - Father_  
_Madre – Mother_

_Next chapter, there might be a Reaper invasion!_


	5. My soul's born on the shore of your eyes

Thanks to all of you for still reading, faving and messaging me about this story. It means a lot to me, you have no idea.  
A big and special thank to **gamerhly** for being so awesome and helpful, you're fantastic!

The title of the chapter is a line from In My Sky at Twilight by, as always, Pablo Neruda.

**Disclaimer: Mass Effect belongs to Bioware, I'm only playing with their universe. I do not own the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.**

* * *

A pair of emerald eyes was gazing at Shepard. Soft, pink fingers were brushing against the wrinkled skin at the corner of her eyes, down to the dark, sensitive skin under them. They stopped there for a second, taping the veiny skin lightly, lifting it, in an attempt to make the traces of sleep deprivation and years passed by, disappear. Gaïa huffed and leaned over the sink, her head hanging low now, avoiding the reflection in the mirror.

She was only a shadow of herself, she realized. Her deep green eyes used to be radiant, with a touch of strength in them; not empty shells of distress and misunderstanding. Years of wearing heavy armors and too many weapons for her own good had molded Shepard into a toned, unbreakable woman, making her the embodiment of energy and bravery. There were no more trace of that in this drab hair, hunched shoulders and ghost-like skin.

She wanted to blame it all on the war when really, Shepard just felt herself rotting inside. There had always been something off about her somehow and it had taken years to put a name on it. Even now, standing face to face with her unleashed demons, Shepard still did not want to admit that the core of her problem was her inability at simply being a woman. Silent tears started to form in her eyes and even though she was alone, she let out a succession of nervous "No, no, no, no!", as if being so human was belittling, some kind of _shame _that even she, herself, could not take. She sharply raised her head to regain some composure but was only rewarded by her own image reflected in the merciless mirror on the wall. There was no escaping the sight of the trails of tears streaming down her face and Shepard quickly wiped them away with the back of her hand.

_'Sooner or later' _she told her reflection, with a hint of exasperation for procrastinating on the issue_, 'you'll have to face yourself, dumbass.'_ With no duty and her rank removed, _now_, more than ever before, seemed like the perfect time to face the part of herself that she ignored and neglected since joining the Alliance.

Feeling like she was facing an inevitable soul-search, Gaïa simply sat down on the hard, white floor, leaning against the cold tiled wall of the bathroom. Her arms naturally came to wrap around her knees and she looked like a child, waiting to be found and cuddled. There was nothing left of the Commander right in that moment, it was an all-new world for Shepard to just _be_ and not _act._

Remaining completely still and silent on the cold floor, she suddenly wondered what three words she would give about this situation, if the shrink post Mindoir asked her right now. Frowning, Shepard thought deeply, before saying out loud, nodding "Helpless… Desperate.._. Angry… _Especially angry."

Helpless. Locked away in a small area, left to deal with the flow of new emotions she had been exposed to lately. Seeing her own future and destiny slip through her fingers and there was nothing she could do about it. She knew that between the doubts and fear and loneliness, lingered a shadow that made her shudder…'Maybe this is the end of my career.' She dared to think, shivering inside. 'Maybe they'll let me rot in a cell for the rest of my life'…

_Desperate_. She needed to be out of this damn cell and fighting again. The room seemed to look smaller with every passing day and the atmosphere just felt heavy. It was as if there was no more room for energy and optimism in here. It felt wrong and Shepard knew she had to get out of this place as soon as possible.

_Angry_. Mostly at herself for being so stupid and out of control lately; but what had Shepard really mad was how difficult it was for her to be human. _Just human_. She snorted with laugher at how much truth there was in this one acceptance. Mindoir had deprived her of a proper youth and by extension, she had never really taken care of herself like she should have and now, to her dismay, here she was, all emotional and vulnerable.

The Alliance had taught a younger Shepard to never be afraid, to always feel stronger than any kind of threat and with growing confidence and determination, she had come to believe that she needed to be in control at all times and be careful to never let loose of her emotions. Anderson particularly, had made her believe that her frail shoulders could bear any burden and on her way to the top of the ladder, Gaïa had lost track of who she truly was underneath the uniform.

She bit her bottom lip and sighed over hitting the right spot; all this anger toward James was due to the fact that he made her want to be human, to be a woman, to be desirable. _'It's like being naked when he is around '_Gaïa admitted, remembering all the times he had been there looking at her, as if reading her and piercing her soul with all this understanding in his eyes. When she had started to long for these looks of his on her, for his presence, the bittersweet feelings had started to arise.

_'Who was I trying to fool?' _Shepard asked herself, frowning and biting her nails. "It's not fair." she muttered. It was unfair that she needed him all of a sudden, whereas she obviously was not ready for it. It was unfair that she needed anyone at all when she felt so unable to give anything in return.

Tears burning her eyes again, Shepard felt the weight of real loneliness for the first time in her life. She had kept everything under control and locked away since Mindoir but there was nothing left to do now, if digging for emotional and psychological issues that she did not want to deal with. She wanted to be selfish for once, selfish and stubborn, just like the teenager she had _not _been.

Instead of bursting into tears, Gaïa burst into laughter. These mood swings were unlike her and if she did not know better, she would simply admit that they were signs of depression, especially coupled with the lack of activity and the self-introspection that came with being in detention. She knew she would overcome what she saw as an obstacle, just like she had overcome everything else, 'Even death' she half-heartily thought.

Rising up, Shepard took off her bathrobe and let it drop to the floor, taking a last look in the mirror before heading to the shower. She took her time and carefully tried to see the woman she had become, without even noticing it. Bringing a shaking finger to her forehead, she traced a random pattern there with her fingertips, trying to feel real under her own touch. In a few hours, hopefully, if James showed up, she would be able to fix whatever she had broken. Shepard knew it would take time to be at peace with herself and therefore, with the world around her.

A shy smile ghosted over her lips and she looked away, wishing it was a pair of deep, warm hazel eyes gazing at her right now for she knew that with just one look, _he _could make all the pain go away.

* * *

James was on his way to the Alliance Headquarters. He had left his flat earlier than before, too eager to go find Shepard and what? Talk? Apologize? _'Isn't she supposed to be the one to apologize?'_ he thought incredulously. Truth was, he just wanted –_needed_ to see her. He still deeply _hated _the way she had treated him but with the right words, the right look on her face, the doubts and pain would be eased away in no time at all.

Vega still had no clue as to how she managed to make him feel so confident and willing to be a better man. He had heard all the stories about the great Commander Shepard and her ability to change people and make them fight for the right cause but he hadn't really understood it all until he had been face to face with her. She had an aura about her that burned straight through his skin, right to his banged-up heart. James smiled despite the throbbing pain in his skull after last night at the Green Orb. He wasn't proud of how he had needed to go down the gutter to find himself again. _'Good came out of it… for _once' he admitted, lost in thoughts as the cold gusts of wind of Vancouver were slapping him in the face.

The outlines of the Alliance building in his field of vision, James picked up his pace, his heart beating faster at the thought of being so close to see her again. Would she let him though? Now there was a knot in his stomach, making him growl at how insecure he could be because of love. _'Calm down, cabrón , it's just Shepard after all' _he tried to convince himself yet his mind kept reminding him that it wasn't _just _Shepard, it was Shepard, the woman he loves.

With that train of thought, and the inner temper tantrum that came with it, James crossed the last meters in only a few seconds but as soon as he opened the main door of the Alliance headquarters, he left the grumpy James outside and put the Marine mask on. After passing the security office, James noticed that the usually peaceful and rather silent hallways seemed more crowded than normal. He wouldn't have given it another thought as he made his way to the top floor and straight to Shepard's cell, but a more than familiar voice called his name.

Anderson. As soon as James turned around and saw the Admiral's face and the lines of worries there, his eyes reflecting mixed feeling as he was reading a data pad, added to the agitated people everywhere, he knew something was wrong. James offered a sharp salute to the man he looked up to and respected more than anyone else, except for Shepard of course.

"Vega, the Defense Committee wants to see Shepard. Bring her there as soon as possible; there is no time to waste. I will meet you both on the way." And before James could even say something, Anderson had disappeared into the mass of people.

James' instinct left no room to questioning and whatever it was that made his stomach knot with fear, and he rushed to find Shepard. He was pissed that their little reunion would have to wait but also excited to know what the Committee had to tell her. They wanted to see her, for good or bad, which at least it meant she would get to be out of this damn cell for once. Selfishly, Vega was afraid they would release Shepard, putting an end to his contract as her guard. On the other hand, as he had been almost unable to sleep last night, James had come to the conclusion that he needed to tell her how he truly felt. It was dangerous and terribly scary, more so than going on the battlefield which was _insane_, even to his own ears, and it could make whatever they had shatter into pieces but he _had to_. He could not bear the thought of not taking a chance especially when his instinct told him that there was _something _on Shepard's end too. Maybe it was wishful thinking but he was pretty sure that he had not misunderstood the heated, passionate words she had given him before he had chosen to leave last night.

As Vega reached his destination and was faced with Shepard's cell door, he stopped. He took a deep breath trying to calm down and took a moment to figure out how to proceed: keep a professional tone and act like yesterday hadn't happened and tell her about the Defense Committee? Or say something about what had _indeed_ happened and then mention the Committee? '_Think faster'_ he told himself, taping his fingers against his thigh, in an anxious manner. 'Won't she be mad if I talk about private issues when I should talk about her release first?' he wondered. _'But she could be mad if I act like a __capullo__ who doesn't give a fuck about what happened yesterday…' _That's when James realized that thinking was useless right now and letting his instinct take the reins, he knocked and opened the door.

* * *

**Spanish vocabulary**:  
_cabr__ón: bastard  
capullo: idiot__  
_


End file.
